


Downstairs

by moonflowers



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Female Thomas, Genderbending, I do not know wtf to tag this as, I'm so sorry, M/M, No plot whatsoever, Sexual Content, Tropes, and fluff, and porn, highly unoriginal, sort of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to unexplainable (and incredibly unfair) circumstances, Thomas wakes up one morning in a body very different to his own. But this new form seems to attract the attentions of a certain footman, one that Thomas is powerless to say no to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this for are-are's trope thing, ignored it for a month or two, then irrationalgame mentioned it yesterday, and... well here we are. Predictable and slightly cracky, most likely riddled with plot holes and inaccuracies. It also turned out surprisingly lengthy... I'll be referring to Thomas as 'he,' because even though he's got the body of a fine-ass lady, he's still a bloke in his head.

Thomas woke that morning with the distinct impression that something wasn’t right. An impression that only strengthened when he rubbed blearily at his eyes, and sat up. He didn’t feel _himself;_ like his entire centre of gravity had changed, like his very bones were altered, and his limbs weren’t his own. Resigning himself to a day of feeling poorly – he’d worked through worse in the past – he sighed and stretched out his arms. It was then he realised just how odd he felt, his weight distributed wrongly over his body. Perhaps he was a little delirious. Though his temperature wasn’t up… maybe it was best if he went to see Mr Carson about taking the day off, just as a precaution. His position in the house was largely one of support and ceremony anyway, rather than practicality, so he probably wouldn’t be missed for one day. It wasn’t until he stood up that he thought to look down at himself. Ah. On second thoughts, maybe the butler wasn’t the most suitable person to talk to about this ‘illness.’ 

Five minutes later, after agonising over what would be the best thing to do, Thomas was steeling himself to knock on Mrs Hughes door, dressing gown (now far too large) wrapped securely around his changed body.

“Just a moment,” came the housekeeper’s voice from within, before she opened the door. “Yes?” She looked Thomas up and down, frown growing deeper by the second. “Who on earth are you? And how did you get in?”

“It’s me, Mrs Hughes,” his higher than normal voice cracked pitifully, “It’s Thomas.”

“What the devil are you talking about, girl?” she whispered angrily, clearly keen to not alert anyone else to the melodrama unfolding in the corridor, “I’ll have to fetch Mr Carson, and see what he has to say about your breaking and entering.”

“No, Mrs Hughes,” Thomas grabbed her arm to stop her, desperation creeping into his unfamiliar voice, “it really is me, please! What can I do to make you believe me?”

She pressed her lips together tightly, but thankfully made no further move to inform Mr Carson. “Very well, if you insist. Tell me something only that Mr Barrow and myself would know of.”

“I – “ he struggled for a moment. He was fond of Mrs Hughes these days, but they hardly shared confidences, as he once had with Miss O’Brien. He learnt from his mistakes. “When I was to leave Downton,” he blurted out, clutching her arm even tighter, “you found me out in the back yard…” he hesitated, but to hell with it, his pride was already shot, “…crying. And you put your arm ‘round me, and took me into your sitting room. You poured me a cup of tea, and told me everything would be alright. I’ve not forgotten it,” he said with a weak smile as her face softened, “and I’d be very grateful if you could show me similar kindness now.”

The housekeeper let out a deep breath, yet again shouldering the problems of another as her own, as seemed to be her calling, and offered him a thin smile. “Alright. I can’t leave you in the lurch, I suppose.” Thomas sagged in relief. “You’d better come in, and we’ll find you something to wear.” 

Oh bugger. 

*

An hour later, and Thomas was sitting in his usual seat at the breakfast table, trying to ignore the curious looks of the others as he ate his porridge. Mrs Hughes had advised him to stay in his room and feign illness until they figured out what to do, but he’d refused. He wasn’t one to hide himself away, and besides, he was hungry. Mrs Hughes had rolled her eyes at his stubbornness, but given in. She’d told the staff Mr Barrow was ill, and that this strange woman bearing so much resemblance to him was a relative, there to check up on him. One or two of them had looked sceptical, but it was certainly more believable than the reality. More likely they thought he was feigning illness in order to get out of work, and plotting some scheme or another. Well, they could assume all they wanted, Thomas thought as he sipped his excessively sugared tea, they’d never guess the truth. 

“So, how are you related to Thomas, exactly?” Anna asked, with a little smile. She was only trying to be friendly, bless her, but the question still caused a ripple of panic to run through him… it would be all too easy to slip up.

“I’m his cousin,” he said, trying to sound light and pleasant, and not like he was trying to conceal an enormous secret, “our mothers were sisters. I’ve not seen our Thomas for years; I moved south with my husband a few years back, and haven’t had the means to look in until now.” The words ‘my husband’ felt strange on his tongue. He gave short, curt answers to a few more curious questions before talk turned to other more important things, and he was able to continue his breakfast in relative peace. He couldn’t help but shift around in his seat; though his usual stiff collar and uniform was far from comfortable, it was what he was used to, and women’s clothes… well, they might fit him physically, but mentally it was all wrong.  
Mrs Hughes had been kind enough to pin his suddenly lengthy hair up for him earlier, and handed him a bundle of clothing for him to try on, pink tint to her cheeks as she asked if he’d need any help with the ‘mechanics.’ Trying to tamp down the mortification the very idea brought, he’d told her that wasn’t necessary thank you, and swiftly left the room. The thought of dressing in women’s things had been an embarrassing one, but he didn’t have much choice. The brassiere had been tricky, but essential if he was to show his face downstairs without causing a scandal. Unfortunately the same went for the stockings. He didn’t wish to even think about the knickers. But he’d drawn the line at the wearing of a corset; woman’s body or no, he refused. You couldn’t tell anyway, underneath the loose-fitting dress Mrs Hughes had tactfully given him. As a result, finding a way to sit that was comfortable was proving difficult. To make matters worse, Jimmy was watching him. The last thing Thomas needed was Jimmy sniffing around him, so to speak. He shot him his best glare, and went back upstairs before anyone could ask more awkward questions. 

*

There were approximately eighteen instances over the course of the morning where Thomas was immensely thankful his true form wasn’t that of a woman (and made him hope desperately he’d be back to normal again as soon as possible.) He’s spent a few hours lounging in his room away from prying eyes – or he would have been lounging, if the blasted underwear didn’t dig in every which way he sat. His ridiculous hair kept falling from the pins Mrs Hughes had so carefully put there, and the skirts were heavy and too warm in his stuffy room. All the above unpleasantness aside, he didn’t think he could ever get used to having breasts. He’d never seen where the great appeal lay in them to begin with, but now it was safe to say he’d never have a nice word to say on the subject again.

He’d braved downstairs on two occasions, both of which had been excruciating. The first time was when he’d realised he’d left the book he was reading in the servants’ hall the night before, and boredom drove him to go down and fetch it. Unfortunately, Jimmy, Alfred and Mr Bates had also been there, catching up with a bit of mending and sewing and the like while they had a moment spare. He gave them all a tight smile, before digging around to locate the book. Someone must have moved it…

“Can I ask what you’re looking for, Miss?” Mr Bates asked smoothly, causing Thomas to jump upright. 

“I – that is, Mr Barrow, left the book he’s been reading down here. I came to fetch it for him,” he said, as pleasantly as he could. _Not that it’s any of your bloody business, you old goat._

Bates was about to reply when Jimmy cut him off. “You mean this one?” he held up the cheap mystery novel Thomas had been searching for. “I was just having a flick through, to see if it were any good. Tell Mr Barrow the ending’s rubbish.”

“Thank you.” _Little git,_ Thomas thought, though perhaps less harshly than he should have, and went to take the book. Jimmy didn’t let go, though.

“Can I just say, Miss,” Jimmy began, with the same smug, self-satisfied little smile he had on his face as he did when he spoke to Ivy, “that you have the most enchanting eyes. A bloke could spend all day looking into those beauties.”

Alfred snorted and Bates rolled his eyes, and Thomas had the strong urge to smack Jimmy on the nose with the book. He settled for giving the idiot the most unimpressed look he could manage, and tugged the novel from his grip before stepping smartly from the room. Honestly, if all women had to put up with drivel like that, it were a wonder any of them were still sane. 

The second time was for lunch, which had been less awful than breakfast, if only barely. The presence of ‘Mr Barrow’s cousin’ was less unexpected, and therefore less remarked upon. However he was still very aware of everyone’s eyes flicking to him every now and again; most with simple curiosity, though he thought he caught Daisy eyeing his thick hair with some sort of envy as she brought in more cake. The looks some of the others were casting him were far less innocent. To his mild disgust, Alfred looked him over once or twice, and the hall boy sitting across from him kept gawping at him like a fish in a bowl. It was far from flattering. Anna, bless her soul, must have noticed, and shot him a sympathetic glance and offered another slice of cake. Woman or not, Thomas wasn’t going to say no to that. Most alarming of all though, was Jimmy. Throughout the entire meal, he was eyeing Thomas the way a cat eyes a canary in a cage, swishing its tail and waiting for the perfect time to pounce. It was unnerving – Thomas was rather used to being the cat. He should have been affronted by how obvious the fool boy was being, but since he’d spent the best part of two years wishing Jimmy would look at him as such, it was difficult to be angry. Pleasant or not, it was disconcerting. He was glad to get back upstairs to the privacy and relative safety of his room.

*

Thomas knew every member of staff’s daily routine to some extent, and as such knew that there was usually a brief period somewhere between half past four and five o’clock when everyone was busy in some way or another, and the servants’ hall was often empty. He’d snuck down to have a quick cup of tea and a glance over the paper without an audience. Unfortunately, it seemed Jimmy also happened to have some free time. Thomas chose to ignore him as the footman took a seat and played a hand of cards against himself, lifting the paper higher over his face. The silence wasn’t destined to last though.

“I know it’s you, you know,” the newspaper apparently couldn’t shut Jimmy out completely. Such is life.

“I can’t think what you mean,” said Thomas carefully, keeping his tone even and uninterested, eyes fixed on the newsprint.

Jimmy snorted. “Alright. I’ll make things clear shall I? I know it’s you, Mr Barrow.”

Oh bollocks. He flipped his paper in half and peered over the top of it, curiosity outweighing common sense. “How?”

“Well, we’re mates, aren’t we?” Jimmy said as though it were obvious. “I’d know you anywhere.” Thomas really didn’t know what to say to that; he wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or offended. “So. You’re a woman.”

“Yes Jimmy,” said Thomas dryly, “I think we’ve established that.”

“I was wondering,” he began, and Thomas was fairly sure he wasn’t going to like where this was going, “does that mean you have – “

“That’s quite enough about that, I think,” Thomas interrupted quickly as he stood up, not missing the way Jimmy’s eyes swept over his now female body as he did so, “I’m going upstairs.” Jimmy smirked at the implication of his words, but Thomas marched off to the staircase before he could say anything else.

Unfortunately, his snarky call of, “is it really suitable you to be sleeping in the men’s quarters, Miss Barrow?” followed him through to the hallway. 

*

After Jimmy’s revelation to him earlier, Thomas was sorely tempted to skip dinner altogether, and avoid the silly little smug looks the footman would no doubt be shooting at him across the table. But, as he’d told Mrs Hughes that morning, he was not one to hide. Also, he couldn’t possibly let Jimmy win so easily. So he’d gone down to eat with the others, endured childishness from Jimmy and the normal irritating small talk from the others, and retreated back to his room as soon as possible.  
He was pacing the floorboards, in some vague sort of hope the physical movement would help him find sleep. Tired as he was, he couldn’t rest, worry over his current state of affairs keeping him up. Time must have somehow limped by though, as when he next glanced at his watch (currently lying on his bedside table, as he didn’t feel the pockets of his dress were suitably safe for it) it was after eleven. He was drawn from his hazy state of worry over his condition by a knock at the door that he would rather not have answered. But he did, and found himself faced with Jimmy, who looked less smug and decidedly more uncomfortable, much to Thomas’ enjoyment. This positivity was to be short-lived though. 

“What?” said Thomas, shortly.

“I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“Is that so?”

“No. I… have a proposition for you,” Thomas narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “if you would just let me in?” Devious little shit. He knew bloody well Thomas wouldn’t be able to say no to that.

“Should you really be coming into a lady’s room, do you think?” Thomas drawled, but stepped aside to let him in anyway. “Now, I want to get to bed and hope this mess has sorted itself out by the morning, so I’d like to keep this short if you don’t – “ the end of his sentence was cut off as Jimmy kissed him, hard and quick, like he was scared he’d change his mind.

“Jimmy,” said Thomas, bewildered, “what the bloody hell was that?” Was he dreaming? All things considered, it seemed an entirely credible explanation. 

Jimmy gave an awkward little shrug, and closed the gap Thomas had made between them. “I know you still want me, Mr Barrow,” he said, flushed but determined, “so I don’t see what the problem is.” Thomas felt his resolve weaken as Jimmy placed a hand on his arm, not breaking eye contact. He should push him away, tell him to get out, and let that be the end of it. But the problem was, Jimmy was right; Thomas did want it, and was well aware this may be his only chance to get it. If he only ever got to be desired by Jimmy in this woman’s body, then so be it. He would take it over nothing, though it would almost certainly mean even more heartbreak in the long run. He always knew he was a masochist at heart.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

As soon as he’d given his consent, Jimmy didn’t hold back. He kissed like Thomas had always dreamed he would do, over-eager and sloppy and desperate. Once he’d got over the initial surprise, Thomas kissed him back with every trick in the book. He was no trembling maiden, certainly not in his mind at least, and if the best outcome he could get from this tryst would be sending Jimmy away with a smile on his face from memories of the best night he’d ever had, then that would have to do. He ran his tongue along the seam of Jimmy’s lips, gently easing them apart. Jimmy gave a little gasp of surprise at his assertion, but returned the kiss eagerly enough. Thomas began to gently nip and suck at Jimmy’s lower lip, drawing a delicious and surprisingly loud moan from Jimmy’s throat.

“Shh,” Thomas drew back far enough to whisper, “or someone’ll hear. We don’t want a repeat of last time do we.”

Jimmy frowned at the poor taste of his joke, but it was quickly forgotten when Thomas reached down to cup Jimmy through the front of his trousers. “Ahh fuck,” he hissed, and bucked into the contact. 

“Impatient,” Thomas muttered. _I knew you would be._

Jimmy’s eyes flicked down to Thomas’ chest, which was still annoyingly full and female. “I – may I?”

It was something Thomas had been hoping to avoid, as it somehow seemed a much more feminine trait than even what lay under his skirts, and the most prominent reminder that this wasn’t real, or not to Jimmy anyway. He wanted Thomas because he had the body of a woman, a body that was not his own. It served as a cruel reminder that Jimmy would only ever desire women, and yet he couldn’t deny him. “… If you must.”

With Thomas’ consent, Jimmy tentatively ran his fingertips over the swell of his chest, still looking at him reverently. But he quickly became more bold, grasping at him with his entire hand and lowering his head to kiss at Thomas’ neck, tugging at the buttons of his dress to reach inside. Despite his misgivings about Jimmy’s desire to touch his somewhat disliked chest, Thomas found he enjoyed it more than he’d expected to. He’d always been particularly sensitive to touches there, and in this new body, it appeared he was even more so.  
Thomas could feel the jut of Jimmy’s erection digging into his hip through his skirts, and that paired with the unexpected rush of pleasure as Jimmy pinched his nipple, made him impatient. His belly felt warm and heavy, the unfamiliar territory between his own legs sensitive and hot. It was… different. But certainly not unpleasant.

“Come on,” he said roughly, between kisses to Jimmy’s ear, “take me to bed.”

Jimmy all but tackled him onto the rickety bed, hitching Thomas’ skirts up around his waist, and ran his hands (which were slightly shaky, Thomas was pleased to note) up his thighs and to his underwear. But then he stopped.

“Oh Lord.”

“Ugh, what is it? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind now.” _Please._

“I just… I wasn’t expecting you to be wearing ladies underthings, is all.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well I’m a lady, aren’t I?” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “My old things didn’t fit, and I could hardly just wear nothing underneath, could I?”

“I… no, I suppose not.” Though from the look on Jimmy’s face he wouldn’t have much minded. He lowered his head to clumsily kiss his way up Thomas’ thigh with a tenderness that Thomas would never have expected. Pushing his puzzlement aside, Thomas moved to unhook the garter belt that had been bothering him all day. But the moment he did so, Jimmy took hold of his wrist.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just…” Jimmy’s already flushed face grew hotter, “could you leave those on?”

“I – “ Thomas was a little taken aback, but agreed, despite the discomfort the various straps and fastenings had been causing him. For Jimmy. “Some of it’ll have to go..” he joked weakly, “but alright.” Keeping his eyes on Jimmy’s, Thomas popped open the remainder of the buttons on his dress, parting it and slipping it off his shoulders. In doing so, he noted absently that the cluster of freckles by his collarbone was in exactly the same position in this new body as his old. He lay in only his underthings beneath Jimmy, feeling the blush creep up his neck under the scrutiny. He cleared his throat. “Now you.”

“I’m not sure if I…” he swallowed, and Thomas’ eyes followed the bob of his throat. In an ideal world, he would have reached up and sunk his teeth into the smooth skin there to leave a mark, but at this point he was worried a slight wrong move would send Jimmy running.

“Here,” Thomas said with a genuine smile at Jimmy’s nerves. It was adorable. “I’ll help you.” 

“I’d like that.”

As gently as he could, Thomas reached up to undo the buttons of Jimmy’s shirt, praying to any deity that may listen that the other man would somehow see through him and fall for Thomas as he was, rather than the woman’s body he was residing in. He peeled each item of Jimmy’s clothing away, placing a soft kiss on his chest, until they were both just in their underwear. It was about then that Thomas’ impatience began to return. Part of him wanted to drag out the entire state of affairs as long as possible, as in all likelihood, he’d never have Jimmy Kent in his bed again. But another part (namely the one between his legs) wanted to be as close to Jimmy as he could as quickly as possible. Partly to move things along and partly because the blasted thing was horribly uncomfortable, he fumbled around with the clasps of the brassiere, pulling it away and tossing it to the floor. And it could bloody well stay there, hateful thing. To his surprise, Jimmy took one cursory glance at his exposed chest before his eyes flicked back up to Thomas’ face. Thomas filed away the reverent expression on the footman’s face for later use. Well, he had to have something to look forward to when all this was over.  
Since Jimmy made no move to do it himself, Thomas carefully hooked his fingers (annoyingly clumsy due to their unfamiliar shape) into the waistband of Jimmy’s underwear, and slid them down. He tried not to stare, but… it was hard not to. He unconsciously licked his lips, and Jimmy, finally regaining some of his snark, raised an eyebrow at Thomas’ still covered crotch. 

“Now you.”

Thomas unclipped the necessary fastenings to be able to slide the loose-fitting drawers down, but left the garter belt in place, as Jimmy had requested. Jimmy was looking at him as thought waiting to be told what to do next, and it hit Thomas that this was probably about as close as either of them had been to a lady’s downstairs since birth. He’d never felt the need to venture there himself, and for all his bluster and assurances it wasn’t the case, Thomas was willing to bet more or less anything Jimmy was a virgin. Well, the principle was the same, wasn’t it? 

“Give me your hand, Jimmy,” he said, voice cracking slightly. Jimmy did so, and Thomas slowly guided his fingers into his unfamiliar body. It was different, and a little uncomfortable, but after a few minutes of slightly awkward trial and error, Jimmy managed to touch him in a way that made him yelp and arch off the bed. It was probably by accident, but that by no means lessened the sensation. 

“Thomas…” Jimmy whispered his name.

“Mm?” he just about managed to reply through his lust-fuelled haze.

“You’re beautiful.”

“…Thank you.” _You’re only saying that because I’m in the body of a woman._ “So are you.” But then Jimmy smiled at him, and the whole mess seemed worthwhile again, if only for that one moment. “Come on,” he eased Jimmy’s fingers from him with a grimace. He snagged the jar of jelly from the drawer next to his bed and coated his fingers with it, before taking Jimmy’s cock in hand, smearing it with the stuff, watching the muscle twitch in Jimmy’s jaw as he did so. His new body was more helpful in that particular aspect than his old, but he doubted it would be enough, and he didn’t fancy risking it.  
There followed a lot of face-pulling and adjusting of angles from both parties, but eventually Jimmy was inside Thomas, and though it wasn’t exactly the context in which Thomas had imagined the moment, he was fucking thrilled. 

“Move, Jimmy. It’s alright.”

He did as Thomas bid him, building a slightly hesitant rhythm as he moved gently in and out of his body. It was too lovely to be real, too lovely for words, tender and awkward and perfect, besides the one glaring problem.

Whether it was by design or sheer luck, Thomas couldn’t have said, but with every thrust Jimmy was bringing him closer to the edge, heat in his belly growing until his eyes closed and he gasped, fighting the urge to shout out as he felt himself clenching around Jimmy, in a pleasure understandably different to anything he had felt before.  
He was still coming down from his high, body slack and sated, enjoying the sight of Jimmy approaching his own orgasm, when a truly horrible thought occurred to him. In technicality, he was a woman, but surely that couldn’t mean – oh fuck. 

“Jimmy, pull out.”

Jimmy’s mouth was hanging open in pleasure, his eyes closed. “Why?”

“Pull out, now,” said Thomas sharply, but Jimmy only moaned and kept going. “Jimmy Kent, you pull out this instant!”

“Ugh, but I’m so close, please…” he whined.

“If you dare come inside me, I’ll punch you on the jaw,” he’d do no such thing, but he was getting desperate.

“What? Why?”

“I’m a woman, Jimmy, and if I somehow end up pregnant, Lord help me I will – “ 

“Oh alright!” Jimmy practically shouted and pulled out quickly enough to make Thomas yelp in discomfort, but he recovered in time to see Jimmy stroke himself quickly before he came, dripping over his own chest and down onto Thomas’ thighs. Oh. If he hadn’t come already, that probably would have been the sight to send him over the edge.

“Thank fuck for that,” Thomas flopped back against the pillow, Jimmy falling down next to him on the small bed, already looking as though he were about to drop off. “Jimmy?”

“That were fantastic.”

“Jimmy, you can’t sleep here.”

“Yes I bloody well can,” the footman said with as much authority as he could muster, which wasn’t much as it was followed shortly by an impressive yawn. “I’m going to spend every last minute I can with you.”

“…Right.” Before I turn back into my normal – male – self, and you can’t bear the thought of me loving you, Thomas thought with another wave of despair. Not really seeing any other option, Thomas gave into temptation and let Jimmy’s searching hands pull him close, and together they fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD why is this shit so long? It's hardly a novel, but its longer than most of the pieces I wrote for uni. Just saying.  
> I've been fussing around with this for ages now, and at this point I don't think it's going to get much better, I just want to get the dumb thing posted and over with haa.  
> 

It was barely light when Thomas woke, head feeling as though he’d necked a considerable amount of drink the night before. This alone was disconcerting, because he hadn’t touched a drop, though Lord knows it would have been justified. The next thing he noticed was that Jimmy was still in his bed, head tucked under Thomas’ chin and their legs tangled together. Despite the headache, this realisation quickly made the morning one of the best of Thomas’ life (though in truth, there hadn’t been an awful lot of competition so far.) He had slept with Jimmy Kent, in every sense of the word, and nobody could take that away from him. As if sensing Thomas’ smile, Jimmy muttered something incomprehensible and gripped him tighter. In doing so, his stomach brushed over Thomas’ somewhat unexpected erection. He stifled a gasp at the sensation, before commencing an internal celebration at the fact that his downstairs was once again his own. He tried to sneak a glance down at his chest, just to make sure the much disliked breasts were gone, but it was hard to do so without jostling Jimmy too much. He didn’t want to wake him – he’d spent so long wishing for this outcome, and he intended to drag it out for as long as possible before Jimmy woke up and left him. As he probably would do pretty sharpish, once he realised Thomas had a cock again. A niggling pain in his side reminded Thomas he was still partially dressed in women’s underthings, as Jimmy had asked of him last night. The garter belt, now far from a perfect fit, was painfully tight and cutting into his middle. But he didn’t reach down to remove it, once again in fear Jimmy would wake and break the spell, so to speak.  
He needn’t have worried too much, as Jimmy woke only minutes later anyway, blinking sleepily, and Thomas couldn’t help but tense up in apprehension. He’d expected Jimmy to leap out of bed and back to the ‘safety’ of his own room (or at least into the corridor to start shouting about how Thomas had taken advantage of him or some such bollocks) as soon as the events of the night before caught up with him. But Jimmy surprised him on that count. He looked confused for a moment, understandably, and Thomas felt his fingers twitch ever so slightly where they rested on his lower back. He looked up at Thomas’ face; the stubble he usually abhorred but was immensely thankful to feel again that morning, tired eyes and a mouth that was probably tight with concern. Time seemed to drag as the two blinked at each other, Thomas afraid to breathe for fear of spooking him. Jimmy reached up a hand as though to touch Thomas’ cheek, fingertips mere centimetres away from his skin, but hesitated. 

“You’re you again,” he whispered, and Thomas could have sworn there was a hint of a smile about his lips. But then what did he know – he’d gotten it wrong before. It was probably just wishful thinking, or Jimmy’s clumsy way of attempting to hide his disgust. Who knew with that boy. “Fantastic,” he breathed. Was he being sarcastic, or…? Thomas was still afraid to move, and shatter any last traces of hope he may have had. 

But in the end it was shattered for him, when the loud rap on the door announcing it was time for the staff to get up brought a look of terror to Jimmy’s previously serene face, his whole body tensing before he hurriedly pushed himself away and out of the bed. In Jimmy’s frantic rush to remove himself from Thomas’ arms, he’d practically thrown the blankets halfway across the room, leaving Thomas still stretched out on the sheets, naked other than the few now very ill-fitting items of ladies underwear. Yep. That was definitely his own body again. And still Jimmy’s eyes swept over him and his breath hitched, causing the tiny glow of near-diminished hope to flare momentarily in Thomas’ chest, before the sound of the hall boy knocking on Jimmy’s own door down the corridor jolted the footman back into awareness, and he scrabbled around the floor for his clothes. Thomas averted his eyes. 

*

The day itself was infuriating. At first Thomas thought it was probably best to leave Jimmy to himself; let him think everything through in his own time without Thomas butting in and making it worse. But then he reasoned that Jimmy was most likely to be a bit off with him no matter what he did at this juncture, so if he could at least fight his corner, then he’d feel more at ease. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the drama that had followed his previous ill-fated visit to Jimmy’s room, so if he could just say something to calm Jimmy down a bit… well, hopefully things wouldn’t turn out too bad. Though he was pretty certain he’d lost the footman’s friendship once and for all after this debacle.  
But once he’d made the decision to speak to Jimmy, he became impossible to pin down. The moment one of them was free, it seemed a task suddenly appeared for the other; they were never alone for more than half a minute. And the fact that Jimmy turned redder than Mrs Patmore every time their paths crossed didn’t exactly bode well. The only occasions they spent any length of time in the same room were meal times, and they could hardly discuss the events of the yesterday across the servants’ hall table. Those same rules didn’t seem to apply to everyone else though. 

“Glad to see you up and about again so soon, Mr Barrow,” said Daisy brightly as she set down a plate of scones close to where he sat. Bless her.

“Thank you, Daisy,” he said as he helped himself to tea. 

“That goes for me as well, Mr Barrow,” said Mrs Hughes significantly over the rim of her tea cup, “I was quite worried about you.”

Murmurs of general assent went around the table, and Thomas would have been quite chuffed with everyone’s well-wishing, if it had happened under any other circumstances. An actual illness, for example, rather than his spontaneous transformation to the opposite gender. As it was, he forced a smile and took another scone. 

“What about your cousin then, Mr Barrow?” piped up Alfred, and Thomas could have slapped the sod for his big mouth.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Jimmy hissed at him before anyone else could reply, leaving several eyebrows raised in surprise at his outburst. 

“What James means to say is,” Thomas cut in smoothly before the idiot could say anything else ridiculous to draw everyone’s attention, “that she left early this morning. I was feeling better, and she had her… husband to get back to.” 

“Oh,” said Alfred with a frown, “but I were downstairs earlier than normal this morning to see to a nasty scuff on my shoe, and I didn’t see any sign of her.”

“Well there’s no reason you would have, Alfred,” Mrs Hughes spoke up. “Honestly, she was out of the door in no time at all, I saw her out myself.” Mrs Hughes was an angel and Thomas would give anyone who said otherwise a severe talking to. Though the suspicious look she sent Jimmy’s way wasn’t exactly comforting.

But the lanky idiot still didn’t drop the subject. “She seemed nice is all,” he said with a shrug, “I wondered if we’d be seeing her again.” 

“Well it’s not your place to wonder, is it?” said Jimmy sharply, and if Thomas wasn’t too busy being horrified about where this mess was headed, he may have been touched by Jimmy’s defensiveness. Though a nagging voice in his head (that sounded alarmingly like Miss O’Brien) said it was probably just out of self-preservation. And he was hardly in a position to judge someone for that.

“I couldn’t agree more James,” said Mr Carson briskly with a dark look at Alfred, “that’s quite enough on the subject, I think. I’m sure we all have other things to be getting on with. Anna, I’m told Lady Mary isn’t feeling well, so she won’t be joining the rest of the family for dinner…”

And so the conversation carried on as normal, all brushes and button holes and who’s doing what, and Thomas let himself relax a little. But that didn’t make him any less aware of the way Jimmy was scowling into his plate. 

*

Thomas went to bed earlier than usual. His late night and rude awakening combined with all the stress of the day had knocked him for six, leaving him feeling depressingly old. And he still wanted to talk to Jimmy, especially after his behaviour during tea, but the footman wasn’t anywhere to be seen downstairs, and Thomas was hardly about to knock on his door. So he lay sulking on his bed in his undershirt and pyjamas, looking up at the dim, crawling shadows on his ceiling, and prepared for a long night with no sleep. He’d seen far too many of those for his liking.  
But, as with many things over the past two days, Thomas’ expectations were shot to hell with a tentative knock at his door. 

“…Come in.” He briefly considered pulling on his dressing gown for propriety’s sake, or even just sitting on his chair rather than lying back against the pillows, but he found he didn’t much care, whoever it might be. Most of the inhabitants of the house had seen him as the opposite gender for Christ’s sake, they could bloody well put up with his sodding night wear. He regretted his flippancy when it turned out to be Jimmy who’d knocked, whipping in through the door and shutting it quickly behind him. Thomas got to his feet, either out of some strange sense of good manners or sheer workplace habit. Thankfully, unlike Thomas, Jimmy _had_ bothered with his dressing gown. Door safely shut, he turned to face Thomas, though he didn’t move any closer. His jaw was tight and his arms folded across his chest, and though the expression on his face belied his wariness, there was a calmness to his movements that suggested resignation. If anything, the Jimmy before him now most resembled the one Thomas had met on Jimmy’s first day of work – pleased that he’d gotten the job, but unsure of how it would go once he started.

“Hello.”

“Jimmy,” Thomas nodded, not sure what to do with himself, “I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“I suppose not,” he tried to smile, but only succeeded in looking a little pained. “But here I am all the same.”

“Good,” said Thomas, aiming for lightness, but sounding strained, “ because I wanted to thank you for diverting Alfred’s unwelcome curiosity regarding my ‘cousin.’ I can honestly say she wouldn’t have been interested.”

There was an awkward silence as Jimmy stood by the door, unmoving, and saying nothing. And Thomas was once again afraid to speak, in case the lad turned out to be nothing but an illusion, drifting away before his eyes. He usually had an answer for everything, but when it came to Jimmy, he often found himself speechless. 

“Thomas?”

“Mm?” Eloquence deserted him.

“I want…” he swallowed audibly.

“What, Jimmy?” _For the love of God, tell me what you want, you wonderful, ridiculous boy._

A muscle in Jimmy’s jaw twitched, but before Thomas had the time to observe anything further, Jimmy had closed the gap between them and crushed his mouth to Thomas’ hard enough to hurt, so much so that Thomas almost shoved him away out of reflex. But then Jimmy’s mouth softened, one hand coming up to hold the back of Thomas’ neck, holding him close, and the other resting on the side of his face. Thomas was not entirely sure what was happening, nor what was logically the best way to proceed, but logic went out the window when he felt Jimmy pause before nipping hesitantly at Thomas’ lower lip, mimicking the way Thomas had kissed him the night before. Oh Jesus. He just about managed to stop himself groaning, slipping his tongue between Jimmy’s parted lips, confusion and restraint giving way to desire.  
When they broke apart, Jimmy’s lips were slightly swollen, his eyes bright again, and Thomas’ hands were bunched up in the fabric of his dressing gown. 

“I – I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Jimmy blurted, “what we did last night, I mean. But I couldn’t – I wasn’t brave enough to tell you when you were, well, _you."_ He grimaced, and Thomas couldn’t help but take some sort of grim amusement in the fact that Jimmy, usually smooth as cream when it came to flirting and pretty words, seemed utterly out of his depth when it came to admission of actual feelings. “So I thought, since you were a girl, it might be easier. I’d take the chance and perhaps I’d be brave enough to tell you how I felt, tell you how much I wanted you. Which I still didn’t manage to do, come to think of it."

“No." 

“No. But I did want you.” 

__Did. Past tense. “Oh. And now?”_ _

__“Now I want you more than ever. If you still want me, that is, after all this nonsense.”_ _

__“Of course I do, you silly boy.” Even more than Jimmy could possibly know, even after all this mess, and more than Thomas would ever have thought himself capable of, some years ago._ _

__Jimmy’s shoulders slumped in relief, as if he thought it possible that Thomas could ever stop loving him. What a ridiculous notion. “Oh thank God. I mean, that’s grand, Thomas.” He broke into an honest to God smile, different to the one he flashed at the girls in the kitchen, or at Mrs Patmore, when he wanted something. “Could you – could you please kiss me again?”_ _

__As if he’d need telling twice._ _

__He kissed Jimmy like he wished their first kiss could have been – instead of the foolish act that had nearly lead to his ruin – slowly and deliberately, with care and promise representing everything he could give Jimmy, if he asked it. Jimmy leant heavily on him, sliding into his embrace like melting butter, opening his mouth so Thomas could kiss him deeper.  
Still half convinced he was dreaming, or that this was all some elaborate rouse and Jimmy would suddenly whip away from him, Thomas was impatient to take what he’d wanted for years, propriety be damned. He backed them up slowly, until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat heavily on the bunched blankets, Jimmy falling with him to straddle his lap. Well if that wasn’t a sight he’d dreamed of; Jimmy Kent with his legs parted for him, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen, looking at Thomas like he was a dream he didn’t want to wake from. That made two of them, then.  
He slowly pulled open the tie of Jimmy’s dressing gown, slipping his hands underneath it and around Jimmy’s middle to rest on his hips, thumbs dipping into the waist of his pyjamas and resting on his hipbones. His eyes dropped to the obvious arousal under Jimmy’s clothing. 

__“Is this…alright?” he said quietly. They might have slept together before in technicality, but this was a whole different ball game._ _

__Jimmy nodded, and shrugged his dressing gown the rest of the way off his shoulders and onto the floor. “Yes.”_ _

__The rest of their respective clothing was shed quickly after that, Thomas once more reverent of Jimmy’s beautiful body, stopping to press appreciative kisses on whatever patch of exposed skin took his fancy. For Jimmy this was something new entirely, as Thomas’ body was once again his own, and not the more slight and curved one Jimmy had run his hands over the night before. He tilted his head curiously (which Thomas found adorable but probably would have received a punch for his troubles if he’d said so) as he sank his fingers into the dark hair of Thomas’ chest._ _

__“Not what you were expecting?”_ _

__“No. The parts of you I see every day – your face, and hands – are so smooth and neat. I didn’t think you’d be like this underneath.”_ _

__“Oh,” said Thomas, because of course Jimmy was expecting something more similar to what he’d seen yesterday, “sorry.”_ _

__“No,” said Jimmy, leaning forward to kiss Thomas’ collar bone, “I like it.”_ _

__Lost in the sensation of Jimmy’s tongue on his skin, Thomas’ hand crept down to touch Jimmy’s cock through his underwear, at which point Jimmy immediately pulled back._ _

__Fuck. “Everything alright?”_ _

__“Yes,” Jimmy said, flushed but determined, “I mean, I think so. It’s just that before we – you know – maybe we should decide – should I put – or would you like to – you know.”_ _

__“I see,” said Thomas, cottoning on to what Jimmy was getting at, which admittedly, he hadn’t given much thought to either. He’d never let himself. “Well, what would _you like to do?” He still couldn’t believe his luck Jimmy was in his bed at all, never mind what they would be doing in it.__ _

___Jimmy looked so horribly uncertain, that for a moment Thomas wondered if he hadn’t made a terrible mistake. He ran a hand up Jimmy’s arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture (he hadn’t had a lot of practice in that area.)_ _ _

___“Jimmy, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he said, though his cock didn’t seem to agree, “it’s enough that you’re here at all.”_ _ _

___“No,” said Jimmy quickly, “I do want to do _something. Last night was so… I just… it’s all a bit new, is all.” He smiled nervously.__ _ _

____“I know. Do you trust me?”_ _ _ _

____“More than anybody else.”_ _ _ _

____“Then pass me that little jar on the table.”_ _ _ _

____There was a tremor in Jimmy’s hand – though he moved quickly so to conceal it – as he reached for the jar and handed it to Thomas._ _ _ _

____“What on earth is it?” Jimmy wrinkled his nose._ _ _ _

____“A type of oil. I bought it last time I was in London.”_ _ _ _

____“Seems a lot of effort to go to,” he frowned, “why bother with all that?”_ _ _ _

____“You’ll see,” he tilted his chin imperiously, “now come here.”_ _ _ _

____Jimmy grinned and eagerly fell to kissing Thomas once more, arms thrown about his neck in a surprisingly free show of emotion. Thomas pulled back to kiss the footman’s chest, before gently turning him over so he rested on his knees and elbows, where he looked over his shoulder at Thomas with curiosity._ _ _ _

____“It’s alright,” said Thomas in reply to his questioning look._ _ _ _

____“I know.”_ _ _ _

____Thomas curved forward to lean over Jimmy, running his hands over the tight expanse of his back before kissing along the line of his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension under his skin. His cock rubbed against Jimmy through their underwear, and he felt the other twitch under him. He slid Jimmy’s underwear down so it was pulled taught between his knees, and left it there, resting the flats of his hands against the backs of Jimmy’s thighs as he pressed a kiss to the small of his back.  
Kneeling behind him, Thomas pulled his own underwear down about his knees, and carefully unscrewed the jar. It wasn’t anything wildly special, really, though he had bought it in London, in a tiny shop down a dark side street. It was intended solely for the purposes of pleasure. The purchase had been a rash act of optimism, though he was glad of it now. He poured a small amount on the base of Jimmy’s back, watching as it dribbled down between his buttocks._ _ _ _

____“Ahh,” Jimmy shuddered, “shit, what’s that?”_ _ _ _

____“The oil.”_ _ _ _

____“It feels…”_ _ _ _

____“Good?” Thomas prompted._ _ _ _

____“Bloody wonderful.”_ _ _ _

____Thomas hummed in approval and reached down to spread the oil over the insides of Jimmy’s thighs, the latter groaning appreciatively and pushing back into his hands._ _ _ _

____“I need you to press your legs together,” he said gently._ _ _ _

____Jimmy did so, and Thomas carefully slid his cock between his legs, slipping between the hot, slick skin of his inner thighs. Jimmy tensed, then relaxed under Thomas’ manoeuvring, allowing his legs to be pressed tight together as Thomas’ cock slipped between them._ _ _ _

____“That’s it,” Thomas wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s middle, palms flat against his stomach, and eased him into an upright position, his chest to Jimmy’s back. He felt the shuddering breath Jimmy let out at the new position, and reached down with one hand to stroke at his cock._ _ _ _

____“Ahh, fuck,” Jimmy hissed as Thomas’ oil covered hand took his cock, and craned his neck back at an awkward angle to kiss him. It was messy and imperfect, and all the better for being so._ _ _ _

____Thomas came first, though he was too delirious to feel any annoyance about it, coating Jimmy’s thighs and mouthing at his neck. A combination of Thomas’ clever hands and seeing his own skin spattered with the evidence of Thomas’ orgasm meant Jimmy followed soon after.  
Kicking off their tangled and somewhat sticky underwear, they fell into bed, clambering under the still somehow relatively clean sheets. Jimmy lay sprawled half atop Thomas, as this was all the tiny bed would allow, as the latter pressed sleepy kisses to the footman’s knuckles._ _ _ _

____“Jimmy, why did you come up to see me tonight?”_ _ _ _

____“To tell you I wanted you, I suppose,” Jimmy frowned. “And maybe to say sorry for… everything. And for leaving you, this morning, when I would rather have stayed. I – I was panicking that someone would come in. Stupid, I know, but… To be honest, I were a bit worried you’d punch me on the jaw for my troubles.”_ _ _ _

____“What, for not making an honest woman of me?” Thomas smirked._ _ _ _

____“Oh, give over,” Jimmy half-heartedly swatted his chest. “I were worried you’d think I’d… taken advantage.”_ _ _ _

____“You did.”_ _ _ _

____“…yes. I suppose so.” He paused awkwardly, staring intently at a small hole in the sheets. “Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“Hmm. We can talk about that later,” he didn’t have the head for such an important conversation right at that moment. He probably would have fallen asleep already if it weren’t for Jimmy lying slightly uncomfortably on his arm. “So did you have a backup plan then?”_ _ _ _

____“How do you mean?”_ _ _ _

____“If I _had given you the slap you deserve,” he smiled, “instead of shagging you senseless,” Jimmy snorted, “how would you have wormed your way out of it?”__ _ _ _

_____He felt Jimmy shrug. “Lied, I suppose. Told you that I couldn’t help myself, and that I only fancied you when you were a woman. I’d – I’d have probably said anything I could think of, just to save face.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You are fantastically awful sometimes, Jimmy Kent.” _But then, so am I.__ _ _ _ _

______“I know.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So…” Thomas began, partly to change the subject and partly because he was honestly curious, “you like men and women, or…?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Neither. Both. I don’t know.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Pardon?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I like you. I mean, I like you best just as you are now, but I think I’d like you any which way to be honest. As long as you’re you.” Jimmy looked away as he finished speaking, frowning down at their interlocked fingers as his face flushed pink._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh.” Thomas was honest to God embarrassed by that remark – it was about the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, and said by Jimmy bloody Kent, of all people. “I never knew you had it in you to be so soppy,” Thomas said, though in actuality he was over the fucking moon._ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s plenty you don’t know about me, Mr Barrow,” said Jimmy, some of his old bravado seeping back into his voice._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mm, all things I’m very keen to find out, I’m sure,” Thomas stifled a yawn. “But right now, I need to get some bloody sleep.” They had a lot to talk about tomorrow._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Alright,” said Jimmy, “I’d best get back to me own bed I suppose,” said Jimmy, grimly. “But promise me one thing, Thomas.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What?” said Thomas, suddenly much more alert._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Try not to spontaneously grow breasts again,” he smirked, “I don’t think Alfred could take it.”_ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
